25 years ago
The creaking door disturbed my direful dream. A stressful memory of my resentful spouse who’d caught my unfaithfulness by fishing in sea. I was chased out like an animal that is not needed inside the house dodging objects targeting my skull. I’d hopped in my orange jeep humiliated from our neighbours who peaked on their windows. I didn’t blame them, the shrieking was resounding to neglect. Torment fell upon my heart the thought of losing my wife. I’d drove to seek shelter at my colleague that night, where now the sleep weighed off my eyes elated she’d came to take me back home.
“Elizabeth,” I called out under a confused frown when I saw the empty doorway.
I recalled devouring a peppery stew before coming to the bedchamber of antique furniture, and a lot of alcohol consumption that resulted tears of regrets about my immoral actions. They’d invited afflictive pain to my beloved Elizabeth. A woman who delighted my heart with affection when my pockets weren’t affluent.
I woke up from the unfamiliar bed for evidence my conscientious colleague wasn’t engrossed in sleepwalking. The passage gloomy no sight of anyone, yet the tiptoeing between the front room and the kitchen were loud enough for my ears to perceive. It was probably an intruder on my second suspicion, but the neighbourhood’s security was on a twenty four hour guard with armed officers and the house had an alarm system. I didn’t believe someone in sleepwalking was capable of tiptoeing, not a slightest chance. For a moment my heart was compelling I might be up against a criminal. I switched on the passage light and went to the front room, found nothing but the leathery couches and a massive television screen on the wall. I must had been still drowning on my sleep, the little intoxication swimming in my system gotten me hallucinating the quiet footsteps.
I turned into the kitchen for a glass of water, desperate to detox the tiny amount of vodka trailing in my veins. The image of my resentful Elizabeth tortured the organs in my body. I’d been on too much excitement and comfortable fooling my mind the love affairs would remain for eternity. I admitted it was a lot of fun sneaking around, drove me back to my teenage years, but I refused allowing myself to sign papers that’d separate me from my Elizabeth if it came to that. None of the fishes I had caught in the sea worth losing Elizabeth’s love and my unborn son.
When I gulped the tap water, I was blinded to be aware of a shadow standing behind me, moving in a slow pace towards my own shadow. Every second of the shadow’s movement the kitchen was becoming darker. I was a little too late when I glanced on it obscuring the walls. The minute I turned my back the shadow rapidly emerged with my shadow. I saw the gates of hell. I was possessed. My eyes were glazing grey blood veins growing on my face. I recalled the shrieking of my wife wishing and cursing the fishes I’d been consuming would turn into piranhas and feed on my flesh, slowly die like a chicken been slaughtered.
My own shadow turned my body towards a stack of kitchen knives. I pulled out a ceramic knife, and penetrated the ceramic blade on my skin, constantly and traumatically by my own hand. I felt no pain because my consciousness was stranded in hell. The sharp blade slitted my throat and my body fell down on the wooden floor. My soul returned from hell. The shadow had exctracted from mines and that’s when I felt pain of my wounds. I held my neck trying to stop the bleeding from gashing out, struggling to breath as my eyes were widened as a deer in headlights staring at the ceiling, and the next thing I saw was darkness.
25 years later
I had given my blood, sweat and tears to become a successful business man. Exclude my engineering profession, a supermarket and a nightclub created an affluent man to a point I didn’t need a daily job, and my Elizabeth had climbed the ladder behind me to my success. She inherited my assets after my sudden death. She’d successeded every possible way for the continuation of my business until time for retirement set upon her and trusted our son to follow our footsteps.
Elizabeth raised Jonathan in a jacuzzi, luxury lifestyle that he didn’t know the meaning of starvation and poverty. Everything he had was handed on a silver platter. At least he was smart to get education, the insurance of a downfall. The downfall that was unfortunate to arrive unexpectedly. Businesses he was entrusted with were on a path of bankruptcy. In the early chilly Wednesday morning his lawyer was pouring the salty news at a coffee shop.
“The supermarket,” The lawyer began, comfortably warm in his maroon suit and a navy scarf around his neck.” Food, beverage, household products had dried out from the shop. I’m sure you’re a aware of that. There’s no funds available for new stock. The funds that are there are for paying the staff, and that for only this month. As for the nightclub,” his voice unhurried. He sighed and shook his head as he displays the document transactions on the table. “It completely bankrupt.”
Jonathan glanced down at the papers miserably, humiliation and disappointment floating silently. He was married and had two daughters who were studying in varsity. He resembled my prominent brown eyes and the confidence emotion of my face,but failed to adapt my light skin. He established Elizabeth’s pure darkness.
“So what must be done in this situation, shut down the businesses?” The thought of that decision tormented his mind. The thought of the atrocious news to his mother slaughtered his heart. It was all his fault, misusing the business money foolishly on vacations and adventures with his family. The donations and charity. Overspending on fast cars and the purchasing of unnecessary properties.
“Your only option is to sell Mr Ndwandwe,” The lawyer was straight forward. “Unless if you can miraculously find funds for the business to float again.”
That miracle was a loan. The person who can help him was Elizabeth. The bank would reject him. Already the businesses had received a bad word of mouth. Running like before would be difficult for him. The reputation was ruined and dusted, trending on social media platforms. It was fortunate Elizabeth wasn’t a social butterfly, not that it mattered anymore to hide the truth from her.
“Please do give me call once you come to a decision Mr Ndwandwe.”
Jonathan leaned on the bonet, allowing the chill to freshen his mind. It wasn’t suppose to be like this, flushing my legacy which now was under his name. His wife, Athandwe, had been supportive, but unaware the money they’d been spending was business funds.
“Do you believe she will inject serious cash on us?” Said Athandwe on the phone connected to his car as he drove on the N2 heading to North Rynie. A drizzle pouring softly on his windshield. Kind of weather he loved on lockdown with Athandwe.
“Those businesses meant everything to her. It would be a loan until the business picks up again. Despite all the negatively been roaming around i can make them strives in three months if not less,” said Jonathan, believing he’d work hard if getting a second chance.
“Just remember don’t lie honey. Show remorse to her. She must believe that you made a mistake. Since she’s your mother I’m sure she’ll understand and help you,’ said Athandwe. Giving him hope everything was going to work out.
Jonathan drove past a homeless man, glaring at him with an evil eye, revealing dirtiest teeth with the front missing. The white beared covering his dried up face. He was carrying a piece of cardboard with a message, ‘Everyone’s time comes unknowingly’ Jonathan dwelled on the homeless. He cursed when his foot stomped on the breaks, almost smashing the vehicle on the red robot.
“Honey, are you okay, what was that noise?” Athandwe inquired with a worried voice.
Still agitated, Jonathan didn’t respond. He turned his head back to the homeless man, who had disappeared.